The hardest job, EVER.

As a nurse, there are these things called NANDA diagnoses. They are basically a nursing diagnosis, or a problem that nurses can identify and implement strategies to help with health, healing and the medical treatment.  In nursing school, they drill these silly NANDA diagnoses into your head, and you write care plan after care plan in order to train your brain to think like that: Nursing diagnosis: intervention, intervention, intervention, intervention.  Then, when you get out of school, you never see the format again. Probably because it is emblazoned onto your brain, so you mechanically think that way when you encounter a problem.

Recently, I have encountered my first true challenge as a mother: Sleep deprivation.  Now, you’d think that my son’s food allergy would have thrown me. Nope. I’m a nurse. I can handle that.  Or maybe my loss of intellectual stimulation (that may come a bit later).  But, we are now on our third week of Benjamin’s sleep strike. At first, I was sure that it was teething. And it might have been. But now, three weeks later, we are still having trouble and no teeth to show for it. And, I am going crazy.

Even when I finally get Benjamin down, I can’t sleep for fear that he’ll be up any second.  My brain won’t let me relax and get the sleep my body desperately needs.  I have succeeded in reorganizing half my apartment, moving my furniture around, even finding a new piece of furniture in my sleepless hours. But, after a while, I start to melt down.

I should be able to ask for help. My husband continually tries to encourage me to ask for help. But, I am stubbornly prideful, and I truly don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I had the baby, and I should be able to take care of him. I have to learn how. Even if it kills me.

I have tried a lot of things.  Tylenol for the teething, four infant sleep books, consulting with my husband, my mom, my friends, my doctor.  I thought it could be an ear infection for a bit. Yesterday I found out that my child is completely healthy (thank heaven), and that I am crazy.  Admittedly, I had mixed feelings when I left the pediatrician’s office.  I felt relieved that my nursing and mommy senses were right, and that I can spot a real ear infection.  But, I felt utterly defeated. I had expended every option, and even my doctor, whom I have know professionally for years and trust completely, suggested that it might be time to let my baby cry it out.  I have resisted this up until now, not wanting my baby to have to cry.  I’m afraid he will feel alone, he will think I don’t love him, that he won’t trust me.

My doctor also suggested that we start rice cereal, just to see if it might help him sleep through the night. So, I gave him some rice cereal. It was pretty entertaining- he had now idea what to do with it! It was really cute.  Then I gave him a bath. Then, we swaddled him, we read stories, sang a song, said prayers and put him to sleep about 7pm. My husband made me put earplugs in, put on white noise for me, and made me go to sleep.  He woke up at 10:30, 1:30, 4:30, 5:00, 5:30.  We were able to get him calm the first few times (I fed him at 1:30), but after the 4:30, we decided it was time to cry it out. The first time we lasted 15 minutes, the second 25 minutes, and I was also in tears.  I couldn’t take it any more, I went in and fed him, and we got up to play.

So, in the madness that is sleep deprivation, I have pulled out of my brain a NANDA nursing diagnosis.

Self care deficit related to sleep deprivation from routine motherhood. Intervention 1: shower, intervention 2: sleep, intervention 3: sleep, intervention 4: chocolate, intervention 5: sleep… you get the picture.

Once, a long time ago, a doctor told me that being a mother was way harder than being a doctor.  As a doctor, there are scientific, clear cut solutions to problems. You find the problem, you fix the problem.  If there are uncertainties, you consult with other doctors, you read literature, and you proceed with treatment.  And I liked that idea. I told lots of people about my wisdom- hah. Then I began to experience it.

As a mother, you live with the problem. You try what you know, seek new ideas, try them, and you continue day in, day out.  Then you try other things. It never ends.  You can’t go home, sleep on it, and come back with new, fresh innovative ideas.  You have a child who will never be cured, never be perfect or anything less than your responsibility.  And it’s exhausting.  Not just physically.  Emotionally, you want to the best for your child. Because they are not just a job, they are your everything.  You lose sleep, not because they are screaming, but because you care with everything that you are.  You want to fix it, you want to take away all the pain, all the hurt, all the hardship. You want your child’s life to be everything that yours wasn’t, and a million times better than you know how to make it.  

And the pay isn’t like a doctor’s.  You get paid in smiles, kisses, milestones, achievements, little hands in yours, funny imaginative games, sweet misspelled cards, shining faces looking into yours, hand drawn pictures, a tiny voice saying your name, and love. And joy, unspeakable joy. But, its way harder than being a doctor. It is the hardest job that anyone ever had, ever.

Women of God... in today's world.

I have been pondering this blog post in my heart for over a month now.  I have even started and written several versions of these thoughts. Time to get it “down on paper.”

Women of God

I have recently been thinking about the incredible women who surround me.  I really don’t know how to describe them.  The problem, I fear, is that these amazing ladies do not know their own worth.  I marvel daily at women around me who defy all odds and surmount incredible challenges only to have more trials and hurdles placed before them.  Women today face such daunting tasks, and Satan would have them believe that they are failing, when, in fact, these women of faith are truly succeeding in winning the race and fighting the fight.

These women I am referring to face such difficult and often trying circumstances.  I hear stories of these brave women, and I am simply in awe.  Not one of us will escape this life without entering the fire of affliction, but I cannot believe how brave, faithful and longsuffering the women I know are. I have friends who face their day to day life with courage not comparable to anything I can fathom.

Everyone is Tested

I want to share some of the challenges facing women I know.  One is happily living the complex test of unplanned, but not unwanted, pregnancy, and others the lonely road of infertility.  Some battle severe health issues or struggle with mental illness. Several have the heart-wrending circumstance of divorce. Others suffer in abusive marriages or relationships.  Some have lost children or spouses to death. Many lose sleep, and are sick with challenges that face their children.  A few have had adultery invade their marriages. 

I know of faith-filled women whose lives have followed paths of righteousness, only to feel utterly destroyed when promised blessings are not yet received.  Often dear friends follow the counsel of the church and diligently receive an education, and at the end of the long road is unemployment.

I have dear friends who literally risk their lives to bring precious children into the world.  I know of more than one virtuous lady who has yet to find a companion.  I know women who make the extraordinary sacrifice to support their families, though their hearts long to be in their homes. 

There are those who could easily shirk calls of service due to a long list of legitimate reasons, but serve anyway. One dear friend has no reason to care for an ungrateful parent who abandoned her at birth, but she gives her home and her heart. 

Women everywhere around me survive day to day raising their children in faith and love while their husbands travel week in and week out, work long hours, or simply fail to support them emotionally.  I have a sweet friend who sold all her possessions and moved to a foreign country to learn her husband’s native language and get to know his dear family.  I have another who has lived a faithful life, raised beautiful children, only to have them reject the faith she taught them.

So many women I know face challenges they never dreamed were possible, and question their ability to continue day after day.  Truly, these women who struggle are marvelous.  As it turns out, we all struggle.

The World's Expectation of Women

I am continually impressed that we, as a gender, are able to get out of bed each day. The world seems to demand that we look like Jennifer Anniston, are as intelligent as Sandra Day O’Connor, work as hard as Condolezza Rice, and yet have dinner on the table by five.  The LDS culture seems to mandate that we shoulder the burdens of the world, never flinch in our faith, and flawlessly vacuum in heels and pearls like June Clever.  But the reality is so different.

Daughters of God

 The reality is that daughters of God are always loved by him.  Regardless of the current state of our kitchens, the ten extra pounds, the frustrated words with our husband, the scuffed shoes and the the burned cupcakes, we are still loved.  In fact, Heavenly Father loves us NO MATTER WHAT.

The reality is that in spite of what we look to as important, the only person that you have to save is you. You are the most important person the Lord would have you help. D&C 18:15 states that your joy shall be great if your bring one soul unto Him. That soul is you.

The lack of perfection that is emanating from our lives day after day is actually in our heads.  I wish that I could help every one of my amazing friends, coworkers, Relief Society sisters, and family members understand just how their Father in Heaven sees them.  I wish they could focus on the many triumphs, and not the few failures.  I want to be like Samuel the Lamanite on the wall shouting to women to remain faithful, and realize that they are doing it! They are accomplishing the Lord’s plan for them by getting out of bed every morning and being the courageous, strong, and faithful women that they are.

God will Remember You

And if I can’t reach them all, then to those who read this, just know, that your Father in Heaven loves you. Not the one next to you. You. He loves you everyday. If there are challenges, that’s intentional. If there are heart breaks, He is there. If there are blessings withheld, they will come. You are a precious daughter of God.  He is your loving Father. And, no matter the trial, the loss, the depth of despair, He will deliver you.  As one of my favorite General Conference talks says,

“…just as God remembered Rachel, God will remember you.”

New Mommy Moments...

So, now that I have officially taken on the role of mother, there are several things that I was not anticipating. With a degree in Human Development and Family Studies, and another in nursing, coupled with my time as a pediatric nurse, I considered myself a bit more knowledgeable than the average  new mom. However, theoretical knowledge is only that- theory. What I am talking about here are the practical applications...

The top ten surprises of New Motherhood-

10. Your large and in charge belly doesn't immediately disappear.
- So, I don't know what I thought... that perhaps I'd have the stomach of Jillian Michael's 10 minutes post delivery? Yeah, not even close. My flat tummy still isn't back 6 weeks after delivery. I might need to call Jillian Michaels...

9. Sleeping more than two or three hours at a time is a gift, not a right.
- I'm a nurse. I have worked night shifts. I know sleep deprivation. Plus, I have a thyroid condition. I can handle being tired. But there is very little that prepares you to be up constantly feeding and snuggling a newborn. The walking dead might be a suitable comparison. And when suddenly your baby sleeps 5.5 hours, you still have to get up and pump, plus you worry that your baby is still breathing, or that something is wrong. Well, someday I might sleep again, when my kids are... (my mind quickly scans Benjamin's lifespan) nevermind, I'm never sleeping again.

Benjamin asleep in his crib! What a big boy!

8. Breastfeeding- beautiful, magical, crazy and ouch!
- I love feeding my son- truly. From his first feed, Benjamin has been a stellar little eater. Once I cuaght on- very soon thereafter, nursing seemed to be a cinch. I love the time I get to snuggle him close, and hold his little hand. It fascinates me that my body can provide everything he needs (yet again) to grow and thrive!  Though, a little painful, I was expecting WWIII, the way I have heard people talk. I feel so lucky that breast feeding has come so naturally to me, I know that is not the case for everyone.

7. I have boobs? What?
- Also very surprising, I have boobs! As a small breasted woman, I have never thought much of boobs- until now half my shirts don't fit due to the size of these huge things. Seriously! And, while some women love this "perk" of breast feeding, I could go without leaking breastmilk and being super uncomfortable when Benjamin sleeps for a long time. Thank heavens for breast pumps! I'll be happy when my 'flat as a board' status has been reinstated and I can run, hug my hubby and sleep without boob pain impediment.

6. I have heard of projectile vomit, but projectile poop?
- Yes, this has happened to me. This may not happen to everyone, but my child seems to poop rather violently. Luckily, after careful study, and several Mommy and Benjamin poop-covered episodes, it has been discovered that Benjamin has a poop face. That way, we can prepare for the bombing ahead of time.

5.  Reasonable accommodation is required for motherhood.
- Benjamin loves to be held. It might be the fact that he is so stinking adorable, or maybe that he is a first child, first grandchild, and even a first great grandchild. Perhaps it is that we have had an uncanny number of family events recently, or that I simply want EVERYONE who is dear to me to love my baby, too.  Regardless, Benjamin has been held a great deal in his little life!  And, as a result, he sometimes doesn't want to sleep unless it is in my arms. Now, I love that, because it means he loves me, and I cannot snuggle the little man enough. But, sometimes the house needs to be cleaned, dinner needs to be made, laundry needs to be done, or maybe mommy just needs to walk around. I have found that Benjamin will settle for being toted around in our Ergobaby carrier- thank you to my sister in law who insisted that I only have this one, and bought it for me! But, needless to say, I understand the little schpeel that is given about reasonable accommodation at the start of all of my college classes.

My view of Benjamin's head as he sleeps in the ERGObaby carrier. This day I was trying to make dinner with a fussy baby. No small task.

4.  EVERYTHING my child does is cute. Pictures required.
-  I have become one of those people. I think that my child is hands down the cutest thing in the whole world. I could be crazy, completely duped and horribly wrong. You can agree, lie to me or tell me that I am totally fooled, but the irrational mommy pride is never going to change. And, since my son is so adorable, and so is everything he does, I easily take 5-10 pictures everyday. They are on every electronic device we own with a camera! Thousands of pictures. And, I have to physically restrain myself just about everyday in order to keep myself from inundating Facebook, or the blogging world with images of the same thing over and over. So, I apologize if you are tired of seeing my kid. I'm not. And, I don't think I ever will be.  Ah, well, at least I love my baby, right?

Just a few examples of the aforementioned obsession...

Deep thoughts by Benjamin Buley.

His best no-neck football pose. Prepping for the future, no doubt. 

He is related to the Webb clan, after all.

"Playing" in the bath. He loves the bath. This is a G-rated pic, we have the full monty as well.

Cool dude, Ben. He was pretty entertained while wearing mommy's sunglasses.

Benjamin's Baby Power pose in his sleep. The kid has some strong views already.

His Mister Monkey Pants look.
(The pants actually have a monkey on the bum).

Check out that smile.

3.  My vocabulary has changed just a little.
-  So, before Benjamin came, I told Ken explicitly that I didn't think that I could be called "mommy." I thought I was a little too cool for that. Well, I officially eat those words. I am mommy! Completely and utterly Mommy! And I have a million nicknames for my son: Benjamin Bear, Benjamin Bunny, Bubba, Bebby, Goober, Stinkypants, Pooperhead, Monkey, Monkeypants, Buster, and I'm sure the list will go on. I find myself oogling and googling over my son just about every minute. I say things like, "Can you smile for momma, Ben Bear?," and "Oh, you so cute, Pooperpants Buley."  Yep, two bachelor's degrees, and I am resorting to baby talk. I find some vindication in the fact that Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables) addressed this concept in one of her books, stating that she basically couldn't help but gush over her son. I also narrate everything I do for his sake, I tell him that mommy is going to do the laundry, change his diaper, etc.  I consider myself decently intelligent, and I even speak another language, but when it comes to Benjamin, I am a normal mommy, and I oogle and google with the best of mothers everywhere- even sometimes in Hungarian.

2.  Baby gear is awesome, anId invading...
- Well, we are officially baby central.  In every room of our apartment, on just about every surface, and seemingly in every nook and cranny there are baby things. Baby has conquered all of our space. We trip over the bouncer, the burp cloths and binkies are scattered all around, the baby seat is a permanent fixture of our living room. And, in addition, there are a million more baby things to buy! We have three beds for our son- his crib, a pack and play, and a co-sleeper.  The kid has more blankets than I can count (not kidding, I lost track after like 20).  His clothes are innumerable as well.  It's mind-blowing how much stuff we have accumulated, and Benjamin isn't even two months old!

1.  I love my son so completely, so totally and so unconditionally.
-  A friend of mine asked me recently what was my biggest adjustment to motherhood. I racked my brain, and could think of nothing. I have been pretty lucky, in that I seem to have adjusted rather well so far (give me time, that could change). It did take me a few weeks to disengage from work, and I m still realizing that Ken and I are completely consumed with Benjamin, and we have lost the cool couple factor that is innate when you are childless. But I have not yet felt like motherhood is anything but awesome. And, I want to convey my sincerity here, because while I tend to try to be optimistic, I am very realistic, and I'd communicate the reality. And this is it.

What has really shocked me, though, is how instantly I was completely in love with my son. Really. I felt almost immediately the love that Heavenly Father has for him, coupled with my own love. It has been so surreal, there is truly nothing to compare it to. I can only describe it as though I had known this little soul before this life. On my mission, I had a similar experience. I had one area that I knew I was called before this life to serve in. I'd turn a corner, teach a lesson, and meet people, and it was all so familiar, like I had done it before. Very deja-vu- esc.

But this is more intense. I cannot help but feel as though I was called before this life to be Ben's mom. And I am so very honored to have been sent a beautiful, innocent little man to raise, and teach about his Heavenly Father. I am a little overwhelmed when I consider what the role of mother means: it is my job to teach my son, to help him be a good man, and to give him all the tools that he can know for himself the truth, and to return to His Heavenly Father to live. I'm truly humbled to think that Heavenly Father has entrusted his son to Ken and I's care. I have never really been more aware of the principle of eternal families. I cannot express my gratitude, or my wonder at the idea that our Father loved us so much that He gave us the option of being with those we love forever. I never want to be parted from Benjamin or Ken, and I know how I can through obedience to the commandments of God, and special temple ordinances.

Benjamin loves to go to church already!

 Look at that smile. Melts my heart, every time.

So, the most surprising thing about being a new mommy, is that I feel like I was born to be one. Because I was.

Benjamin's Birth Story

Benjamin’s Birth Story

Now that Benjamin is six weeks old, it's time to introduce him the the blogging world... here is the official birth story- all four pages of it. Hold on!

Taken the day before our story begins... yes, I am huge!

Monday, July 23

I had been waiting all weekend for my doctor to return so that we could come up with a plan. When you’re already huge, swollen, and four days overdue, it’s time to talk about eviction, no matter how much you love that baby inside of you. I went to my appointment, only to find that I was still just dilated to two centimeters, and only 70% effaced.  Needless to say, we weren’t any closer to meeting our son than the week before.  Dr. Wilder and I discussed the potential for induction later that week, and she told me she would call me later that day with the official date. After a successful non-stress test to see if the baby was okay, I went home to await the call from the doctor.  When she finally called, the verdict came through; she couldn’t get me in until Thursday July 26, seven days after my due date. I was relieved to have a light at the end of the tunnel, and a plan, but a little disappointed to have to wait to meet my son.

That night, Ken and I resorted to using propaganda. We spoke to my huge belly, telling the baby that the twenty-fourth of July would be the best birthday! He’d always have fireworks to commemorate the day of his birth, there is a parade, and endless barbeques! We told him how much we loved him, how excited we were to meet him! Admittedly, I kind of begged the kid to make his appearance- I was ready for him to come and play.

As if in response to our pleadings, at two am the following morning, (July 24) I awoke as usual to use the restroom (huge baby resting on bladder = frequent trips to the potty). While doing my usual business, there seemed to be a gush of fluids, but I dismissed it.  I went to get back into bed, and another little gush sent me looking for my laptop to research what a rupture of membranes would be like.  As I walked into the living room, there was fluid slowly dripping down my leg.  I never got to the laptop, it was then I decided that my water had broken, and it was go time!

I woke up Ken, which was surprisingly easy compared to previous attempts at rousing him. When I got into the shower, the fluid that was gushing was a tanish-green color, leading me to believe that there was meconium in the fluid. Then we made our way to the hospital.

By 4:30 am, though I was still only dilated to a two, we had earned our ticket into Labor and Delivery and called my mom to come join in the fun.  We spent the morning, Ken, mom and I, watching the Pioneer day parade, taking walks, bouncing on the labor ball, and getting IV antibiotics.  I was in good spirits- my baby was on his way! Labor was bearable and progressing slowly, and I was beginning to get tired.  With Group Beta Strep in the birth canal, the clock was ticking- twenty-four hours after the membranes have ruptured, often there is worry of the infection hurting the baby, and C-section is eminent if the baby is not already close to coming.

At about noon, the residents checked my cervix, and I was dilated to a 4, and 70% effaced.  I had wanted to try to go it unmedicated, fully knowing that drugs might be necessary.  As it turns out, my mother, aunts and grandmother all needed some help to have their labor progress. And at that point, we decided to take some action to make some progress.  After 10 hours of labor, and still not much movement, we decided to ditch the no drugs policy and toss a little pitocin into the mix.

Two long hours later, the pitocin was working its magic- the labor was certainly being augmented.  My contractions were more regular, and a great deal stronger. I was really starting to get tired, and when they evaluated my cervix again, I was still only dilated four centimeters.  I was so tired, that I abandoned my attempt at a pain med free birth.  I got an epidural.  As it turns out, it was the best thing I ever did.

The epidural worked like a charm, for a few hours at least. About five pm, my contractions were going strong, and I was dilated to a six. Unfortunately, my epidural was starting to be less effective on my abdomen. My feet were like cold, hard rocks, but I could feel the pain in my belly. It was around this time that my family came to see me. Nick and Laura came with beautiful flowers, and a gift, and Adam, Jonathan and my dad tagged along.  I was miserable and slightly ornery, and the pain was frustrating.  In fact, Ken, my brothers, and dad gave me a blessing, to help me along in the process. It was a heavensend, and it seemed that everything got a bit more bearable after that.  I’m so grateful for the gospel, and that my Heavenly Father sent His priesthood to help us here on earth.

The time seemed to crawl by, but after several hours of pain, lots of calls to the anesthesiologist and ice chips with snow cone flavoring (my life saver- nothing ever tasted so good), I was still hurting.  My nurse- bless her- decided to rub my lower back.  It was about 9:30 pm or so, and I was convinced that my kid was never coming, well at least he wasn’t coming on Pioneer day.  But, with the rubbing came better pain control.  The more she rubbed, the better I felt.  The epidural was earning its keep again. Ken and my mom both took turns rubbing my back.

By 11:30 pm, it was time to rest.  Admittedly I don’t remember where I was on the dilation scale at this point- I was wasted. I do remember that somewhere along the way we had discovered that the baby wasn’t facing the right way to come out, and once the dilation and effacement processes were complete, we were going to have to turn him.  This might explain why the kiddo wasn’t coming, and why the epidural had a rough time getting the numbing job done.

But, at least I was good and numb.  I think it was about one am on Wednesday, July 25, when they checked me, I was complete (fully dilated and effaced), and they discovered that the little man had turned on his own, and now was time to push. I was twenty-three hours into the labor process, and pushing seemed like the most impossible task that had ever been placed on my little shoulders.  Or maybe on my uterus. Anyway, the pushing journey began.

An hour and a half later, my pushing was pretty lackluster, and I was pooped.  My nurse saw that my efforts had waned, and she made the suggestion of forceps. Now, I was not too excited about forceps, but I was completely exhausted, and I agreed.

I failed to mention that all along, there was some concern about the size of the baby inside me.  Of course, there was no going back now, so they did things to prep for delivery of the massive behemoth in my womb. Things like bring in stools to stand on while they pushed out the baby.  These are the same things that caused the residents to balk at the forceps concept.  I believe the dialog was something like this, “We are concerned that your baby is too big for a forceps delivery.  We could break his collar bone or cause some shoulder dystocia, so we are going to have to take the  forceps off the table. You can either keep pushing, or we can take you to the OR and give you a c-section.”  So that was that, I kept pushing.

In another hour or so (yes about two and a half hours of pushing), we were close. Little guy’s head was right there.  My doctor wasn’t close, though. But, baby was coming anyway. His head came out, and then the doc waltzed in, and quickly donned her gloves and gown, and then out came the rest of the guy, tearing his mommy to the fourth degree.  Apparently this little guy is a ‘go big or go home’ type kiddo right from the start.

The plan had been for Ken to cut the umbilical cord- you know as the father’s privilege.  But our little guy wasn’t breathing when he came out, and the cord was wrapped around his neck.  So my recently arrived doctor cut the cord and handed him off to the team of docs, respiratory therapists and nurses poised and waiting just for this purpose. Ken and my mom immediately crashed toward the bassinet, and I stayed put- the whole rock hard numb legs kept me rather stationery.

Benjamin just minutes after his arrival

I wish that I could say that immediately I was filled with joy and wonder at my son’s entrance to the world, by admittedly, I was really quite out of it.  The teams of doctors were working in tandem, one on me and one on the baby.  It was then that I turned to Ken and somewhat manipulatively said, “Can we name him Benjamin yet?”  Ken finally acquiesced, and our newborn son officially became Benjamin Reed Buley.

Benjamin took his sweet time deciding to breathe, requiring some suction and a few breaths with CPAP.  APGARS were 3 and then 8, and Benjamin eventually (it didn’t take long, but it felt like an eternity to his waiting mom) decided to use his lungs. In the meantime, my doctors were trying to help me deliver my placenta, which did not want to come.

The moment that they placed Benjamin in my arms was emotional.  We captured the tears on film, I was overwhelmed at the beautiful little man in my arms.  He was perfect, and amazing, and mine.  He was remarkably calm, and surprisingly alert, looking around and watching everything as if to take it all in. The raptures, though, had to wait, as I was shaking uncontrollably from the adrenaline of child birth and the drugs in the epidural, and holding my perfect son was rather difficult.

The relief that it was over was palpable in the room, and the aftermath started.  Benjamin had a date with the nursery for observation, and I had a date with the operating room.  The party split up and Daddy Ken went with Benjamin and Grandma Annette went with me to the OR.

I’ll spare you the details of my time under the knife being repaired.  Suffice it to say, I spent a few hours with my stone cold numb legs high in the air and more of that shaking, while skilled doctors put humpty dumpty back together again.  As I lay there, my sweet mom at my side, I remember saying to her, “Mom, I’m not sure I can do that again.”  Her wise reply came, “You don’t have to decide that now.”

At one point, my nurse laughed and asked if I wanted to know how big my baby was… nine pounds, nine point six ounces! Huge baby!!  Ken and I had expected a big boy, but we were shocked by just how big! It was then our little guy was dubbed ‘BIG Ben.’

After I was all back together (at least anatomically), I rejoined Benjamin and Ken.  And it was then that my love affair with my baby started. He is amazing!  My nurse stole him away to show him off, saying, “You gave birth to a three month old!” And soon thereafter we were escorted to the Postpartum unit.

So ends Benjamin’s birth story.   The real fun however, started then!  He is the second best thing I ever did- marrying Ken is the first, of course. I adore Benjamin, and everyday with him is a new adventure.  Sometimes when he is sleeping, I miss him so much, I pick him up just to cuddle him!  I love everything he does, his little cries, his cute lip smacking after he eats, his adorable concerned, grumpy, and happy faces.  I can’t wait for him to get bigger, but I want him to never grow up.  He loves to snuggle with his mommy, and his mommy is completely taken with him.

We love you, Benjamin Bear! All the pain, the exhaustion, the drama, all of it is one hundred percent worth it!  The reward is so much greater than the cost. We love our little Bear so much!

More about our little guy to come…

Tender Mercy: Happy Marraige

Well, it is apparent to those who have read my blog, the few that there are, that I have not yet mastered the art of blogging regularly. But today, something happened that I find I need to record, and write about. This is totally for me, so for those of you that read this, I am going to get a little personal, but I feel that it is one of those necessary and very healing introspective times that my sweet mother in law and I chatted about recently.

We moved into our new ward about 2 and a half months ago, and we have loved it. Some of you know that our last ward was fantastic, but it took us a while to acclimate ourselves to the general climate. I have been a little cautious (though not too cautious- if you know me, I'm rarely too cautious) about getting to know people, and putting down too many roots. I have especially been sort of aloof, since I don't always feel great and sometimes miss meetings here or there. I just haven't tried too hard yet in this ward. I think I want the integration to be more natural, but at any rate, I am still getting to know people, which is fun.

But, today I was sitting in Sunday School, and the instructor came up and started to ask me a few questions about myself, and asked me to say the prayer. Of course I told her I would, but then she really surprised me with what came next. She told me that a few weeks earlier, she had sat behind my husband and I in Sacrament meeting. She proceeded then to tell me that she had noticed that I really seemed to share my smiles with my husband, and that he also, liked to smile at me.  Her observation of our interaction was that we are very much in love, and that to her, this was a very refreshing display. I knew (from attending her Gospel Doctrine class several times) that she was a mental health provider of some kind, and when I asked her what she did, she told me that she is a marriage therapist. I was a little overwhelmed at this revelation, and I thanked her for such high praise, as I am certain that she often sees otherwise in her profession.

This experience struck a chord in me, as I realized what it really meant to me to hear someone (and a trained someone at that) notice that my husband and I really do cherish each other. For those of you who know me, or know what life has dealt me, you are aware that this kind of happiness has not always been my lot. I have so many blessings that I cannot number them, but I am not a stranger to hardship, emotional turmoil and self doubt. I spent many years wondering if I was capable of having a healthy marriage, let alone a happy one. I got a degree in Human Development and Family Studies, sometimes simply hoping that the theories and views of the world would bolster my faith to do what I feared I wasn't capable of. I dated quite a bit, and found that not only was I a hard pill to swallow, my expectations always seemed too high. It was a lonely and heartrending road for me.

Through this journey, one ray of gleaming light that truly kept me going in faith, were the words of my patriarchal blessing. I distinctly remember leaving the patriarch's home with my parents, and my 16 year old mind was trying to make some sense of all I had heard when my mother made a very poignant comment that I will never forget. She said "Wow, Andrea. Your husband loves you very much." In the years that ensued, I would cling to the words of my Heavenly Father who promised me a happy marriage and family, and as my mom noted, a husband who really loves me.

I waited a bit longer than most in our culture to find my dear husband, and I hated every minute of that struggle, but I am also incredibly grateful that I found him, and when that happened we had some maturity and age to our credit when we made the decision to be sealed together for time and all eternity.  And, we ARE very happy, mostly thanks to my very patient, incredibly loving and goofy husband, and in spite of my high strung, stubborn and perfectionist nature.

All these things came rushing back to me today, as a perfect stranger told me that she was impressed at how my husband and I seemed to really love and enjoy one another. I have been so richly blessed to have such a man in my life. And though our Sunday School teacher can't see the disagreements, the hurt feelings or the silly arguments that happen in our home, she can see that even though we are normal, we do really love each other.

Note: Just before this set of pictures was taken, Ken and I had had a massive argument (about what I cannot even remember). We had even talked about not getting married. I still remember the photographer (my dear friend Joanna) telling me that she could tell we were totally in love. I guess we still have it, thankfully.

I am so very grateful for that simple comment. Today, of all days, on the eve of welcoming our newborn son (any day now, baby, you can make your appearance), it gives me hope, strength, confidence and faith that if we continue to Love our Father in Heaven, do what He has asked us, and continue to cherish each other, that we can be the family that I have always dreamed of, the happy family I was promised on that day, almost thirteen years ago when I received my patriarchal blessing. The years will bring hardships, more children, many trials and more perspective, but I hope I can cling to this little tender mercy, and continue with joy and happiness in my marraige and my journey.

Boy!!

Here are the latest pics of our new addition. For those of us not skilled at deciphering ultrasounds, there are some BOY parts floating around in my belly with our adorable little peanut.

We already love this little man! We can't wait to meet him, although he needs to cook a little longer.

My Favorite Bear...

Today, I just wanted to give a tribute to my Bear. My husband, Ken, is the best thing I have ever done in my life. I love him with all my heart.

Ever since we got pregnant, my husband has been even more my rock than ever before. He's taken over so much of the day to day housework, the chores and the basic support of me.

I have to say, while of course there are things that drive me crazy, like that he forgets to get the things I put on the grocery list, he goes to the store! And, he does the laundry, the dishes and makes dinner a lot of the time. He also rubs my feet regularly.

I must have done something right in my life to deserve him, but I can't for the life of me figure out what. I am just so grateful for the blessing of having a wonderful, happy, supportive and amazing husband.

I love you, Ken! I hope you know that through and through. I love you with all of me. I'm so excited to welcome our baby! Then, we can share all this love with them!

Top 10 Surprises in your First Trimester...

Now that I am moving into my Second Trimester, I am able to laugh at the events of the last few months, and talk about it. Here's my best summation of the first trimester's biggest surprises...

10. Eating for two is not actually eating for 2. It’s more like eating for 1.1. It’s actually depressing. I feel totally cheated, it takes all the fun out of being hungry ALL THE TIME.

9. Even though you are constantly hungry, there is suddenly a long list of things you can't eat, and medicines you can't take. I'm not so chapped about alcohol or nyquil, but sushi, cold deli sandwiches, and ibuprofen I'm having a little bit of a hard time living without.

8. Smells, even ones I liked, have become my arch nemesis. It’s still unclear who might win. Stinky trash and burned broccoli go without saying, but when your body splash starts to make you gag, its time to reconsider.

7. I’ve had to embrace the crying all the time. In the car, at the radio, when someone at work is upset, or in bed at night, for no good reason except that I miss my Grandma who has been gone for over 4 years. Yep, for no reason at all.

6. Going to bed at 8:30 or 9:00 pm is totally normal, even welcome, albeit pretty pathetic.

5. I have never considered myself a whiner, but I now claim the title with pride. Because when you’re preggo, you’re preggo, and what else can you do?

4. Having never had a bust line to speak of, I think boobs are overrated. Especially when they hurt all the time. Ken would undoubtedly disagree.

3. Coming from an emotional and ornery person by nature, pregnancy has brought things to a whole new level. Its like Andrea-zilla has been unleashed. Poor Ken, good thing he is about the most patient man alive.

2. I thought I knew what nausea was. I WAS WRONG! And, while I don’t vomit, I can honestly say that nausea is the worst pregnancy symptom ever created. I think we women should put together a petition, oh wait, that wouldn’t work either.

1. Without ever having laid eyes on, held or even felt my baby move, I am so very excited to be a mom. No one can explain that to you, ever. No one can tell you how invested you are from the moment you find out that you are growing a human. No one can help you understand how precious it is, how suddenly nothing else is as important as this, and how the thought of losing the pregnancy is as heart rending as losing your family that you have loved all your life. And though the first trimester is a living nightmare, you are convinced that it is totally worth it, without any proof. It’s basically the most amazing miracle I have ever experienced. I can’t believe that Heavenly Father has entrusted this little soul into Ken and I’s care. We are so grateful. And so excited.

And 2012 will bring with it...

That's right, folks. A baby.

Coming July 2012.